Worse than Death
by sosevvy
Summary: Lord Voldemort now reigns over the Wizarding World and Harry and others have become 'pets'. A spark of hope appears, and the pets dare to hope again. But will they be able to persuade Harry to help them? Especially when he's so in love with his master.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all, I know this is quite a common idea, but I wanted to try it out and see if I can give it a twist of my own. Hopefully I'll make it past this one chapter. Please review and tell me what you think.

The war was over, and it had been almost 2 years since Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, was defeated. After the death of Dumbledore, the Order of Phoenix had fallen apart and disbanded. There was too much discord between its members and the infighting had been their downfall.

In the final battle, Ministry along with most of the light supporters, including Harry and his friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, had been outnumbered 3 to 1. There was never a chance that they would win. Fudge, coward that he was, had fled not long after Dumbledore's death and Amelia Bones and been voted in as Minister. She had done an impressive job organizing the people and rallying their efforts. But she, too, like so many others, had fallen during the battle.

In the aftermath of the final battle, countless bodies lay scattered on the ground, some were mutilated beyond recognition, and others were easily recognized. The only survivors of the light were those the Death Eaters deemed worthy enough. Mainly, Harry Potter and his friends. They were not about to give up the chance of revenge after years of being thwarted by these mere children.

Harry Potter had fallen to his knees in the wake of Lord Voldemort's killing curse. But he had not died, only fallen unconscious. His famed lightning bolt scar had split open and blood had fallen from it in rivers.

A week later, after Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters had recovered from the losses they had sustained, Lucius Malfoy was appointed to be Minister of Magic. Voldemort had taken over the wizarding world, and there was none left capable of opposing him.

Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and most of their classmates in their year, had been given to selected people as 'pets': playthings for the Death Eaters to fulfill their sick and twisted desires on.

Harry himself had not been given away but instead kept as Voldemort's own pet. A worse fate then he could have possibly imagined.

The first day he was asked if he would cooperate or if Voldemort would be forced to use harsher methods. Harry spat in his face. Chains sprouted out of the ceiling and latched onto Harry's wrists, just high enough to force him up on his tip toes. More chains came up from the floor and bound his ankles. He was left hanging there for 2 whole days and nights, naked and spread out for anyone to see. Voldemort made it clear that the Death Eaters had free reign to do anything with him, as long as it was not permanently damaging. The other condition was that they could not fuck him, but anything else was alright.

The days were torture for Harry; he was not given even a second of rest from the countless Cruciatus' and the countless other types of abuse.

At the end of the second day, he thought he was about to go insane from the endless Cruciatus curses and his body could not take any more of the paddlings or beatings. Not to mention his legs and thighs were quivering from being strung up on his toes for 48 hours. But he was not ready to give up. He was determined that it would take more than that to break him.

In the end, he was right, it _would_ take more, but Lord Voldemort was willing to go more than the extra mile.

A/N: How was that? I tried not to get too graphic, actually I wasn't graphic at all as this site does not accept NC-17 stuff. Sorry its short, I hope to make the next chapter longer.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: One of my reviewers asked if I would be posting an NC-17 version of this fic on another site. Sadly, I will not be, partly because I am not too fond of being very descriptive in this kind of situations, and also because I'm too lazy. (: Someone else asked who was left alive. I haven't decided exactly who I want to be playing major parts yet but that will be clarified later on in the story. Now on with the story..

It had taken weeks and many new forms of torture for Harry to break, and by then he was so mellow that when Voldemort said to jump, he would ask how high. And slowly, the obedience turned to a twisted kind of longing and affection. Some people called it the Stockholm syndrome, Harry called it love.

Now, Harry was sitting at the window seat in Voldemort's suite of rooms, waiting for his master. Harry himself did not have his own room. He stayed in Voldemort's quarters and slept on a rug on the floor at the foot of his master's bed, and occasionally, when Voldemort was feeling generous, on the bed itself.

Harry stared at the setting sun, at the sky filled with blues and pinks and oranges, and thought longingly of his friends. His master was more than adequate to accompany and occupy him, but he still missed the boisterous bantering between him and Ron, and the quiet, steady friendship that Hermione provided.

The last time he'd saw Ron had been months ago, at the Halloween ball during which, as Voldemort's pet, he'd had to play host to the pets of all the other death eaters. Ron had looked bad, with bruises covering most of his face, which was the only part of him Harry could see. He had been given to Lucius Malfoy, and Malfoys were well known for protecting their property.

He hadn't seen Hermione in even longer than that, and he could no longer recall the occasion. Macnair, whom Hermione had been given to, had not deigned to bring 'the mudblood' to an important ceremony such as the Halloween ball. He was sure that Hermione would be in worse shape that Ron, as Macnair was as brutal with his 'pets' as he was with animals.

A door opened and closed somewhere near, and Harry was jerked out of his thoughts. He dropped to his knees as he spotted his master, then crawled to him and kissed his feet.

"Rise, pet." Voldemort murmured, and Harry rose obediently. He took the robe as his master shed it, and hung it neatly in the closet. Then he crossed the room to kneel at Voldemort's feet as his master settled in one of the armchairs. Voldemort began stroking his hair absently as he read reports from his death eaters. Voldemort's hand abruptly clenched in Harry's hair, pulling painfully at some strands. Harry looked up in surprise at his master, and spotted the deep frown on Voldemort's face.

"What is wrong, master?" he asked softly, not wanting to anger his master further.

"It appears that pockets of resistance have been found on the borders on Italy." Voldemort answered, and Harry knew by his frown that he was only irritated, not yet angry. After conquering Britain, Voldemort had proceeded to France and Egypt and the rest of the countries with large wizarding populations. By now, he had most of them under his control, and was moving on to the smaller, insignificant countries.

Italy was one country that Voldemort had not yet targeted. Their magical population came up to a hundred at best and fifty at worst. Its capital being the Pope's residence, the country was swarming with Christians and Catholics. Therefore, many witches and wizards were afraid of being discovered and prosecuted, should they chose to live there.

"Is it a problem, master?" Harry questioned.

"No," said Voldemort, waving his free hand, "they will be easily captured."

Then he set his papers down. "Is the bath ready, pet?"

"Yes, master," Harry followed his master to the bathroom and helped his master undress. Each piece of clothing slipped of slowly, revealing a tanned and muscular body. Shortly after the final battle, Voldemort had been able to locate his destroyed diary and had Snape, who had turned traitor; make a potion that had allowed him to take Tom Riddle's appearance once again. From then on he started aging naturally.

Since two years had passed, he looked 18, the same age as Harry.

Harry tried to focus his mind on the task, washing Voldemort's back carefully and gently, but his mind kept wandering back to the resistance. He felt a sense of disappointment, but it felt far away, as though he knew he should be feeling it, but he wasn't. Harry knew he was being selfish; but he wanted things to stay as they were.

Life was good for him, now. Well, as good as things can get, being Lord Voldemort's pet. After the initial stages, his master had not been exceptionally cruel or harsh to him. He was well-fed, had good clothes (which he wore when it suited his master), and a roof over his head. It was more than he had had at the Dursleys, at any rate.

Also, he didn't think he could bear to leave his master now. Not being able to see him for even a day pained Harry so, and it was unthinkable to oppose his master. He lived for his master, he loved his master, and he would not leave his master.

A/N: I can't post this right away as my internet is down and I'm really pissed because it just got fixed too. The Stockholm syndrome makes it all complicated doesn't it? –grins evilly-. So sorry I had to make you wait for this chapter but the computer guy is coming in a few days and I only have this one comp. Sorry.


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